Flight of the Bumblebees [p]

[Mica]

Nightwalker
Dark Forest
he/him | Dead
[Surly, heavily scarred dark grey tabby with sky blue eye]
⋆˖⁺‧₊☽ The Devil ☾₊‧⁺˖⋆
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[Bumblestar - @dino. ]
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Oh, now this was interesting. Nightwalker had never infiltrated the dreams of a leader before. The angry ThunderClan one, too. A low chuckle skittered across the floor of the leader's den where Nightwalker sat and Bumblestar slept, the former WindClanner inspecting the molly in front of him. So many lives lost... her latest being in sacrifice of her lover. Nightwalker scoffed. Some might describe it as romantic, but it was nothing but idiotic. Giving up your life for someone else? Even if you have multiple to spare, there was no spare life. A leader should use each and every life in service to their clan, rather than some foolish doe-eyed female that couldn't hold her own.

But he digressed. What could he do here that would benefit him? Or, what could he do that would piss off those self-righteous fools in StarClan? Could he share information? He wasn't exactly privy to anything in particular, though the outbreak of sickness was fun to watch. Even if he knew something about how to save this clan from a slow, painful destruction, he wouldn't.

Nightwalker didn't say anything, waiting for Bumblestar to wake up and see his hulking form lurking in the corner of her den. Oh, he hoped she attacked him. That would be very interesting indeed. And funny.

[dino.]

The first thing Bumblestar noticed when her consciousness stirred as that neither Violetfreckle nor Wolfhive were in the nest beside her. That struck her as odd, because usually she was a light enough sleeper to notice when either of them moved next to her in the middle of the night. Maybe she was finally starting to get some better sleep - or, more likely, maybe she was just succumbing to exhaustion and passing out much heavier during the night.

The second thing she noticed was that it smelled weird. Or rather, nothing smelled like anything at all. No scents of the camp, or her mate, or her son. Usually that meant she was dreaming. Was she dreaming?

Then came the scent of something rotting, and the feeling of something looming over her, so overwhelmingly powerful that it told her otherwise. Yeah, her first reaction absolutely was to attack an unfamiliar stranger lurking in her den.

Her eyes flew open, her claws sank into the bark, and without a moment's hesitation she whirled in her nest and sprang, forepaws arcing to loop around his neck in a fierce hold and her jaws snapping for his throat.

[ @Mica ]